Elevator
by fredchester
Summary: Sara gets stuck in an elevator. Suspense :P insert spooky music here
1. Prologue

**a/n: If this author's note is gone. It means I've had this story proofread If its still here, its either I've forgotten or I'm too lazy to have it done. **

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**Elevator**

**Introduction:**

She grunted, forcing her eyes to adjust to the room. It was still dark but her eyes made out what looked like 4 metal wires. She looked up and realize that the height of the room seemed endless. 'I must've fallen from there.'

'Now I know what a test dummy feels like.' She laughed bitterly, lying and telling herself that this would all be over soon. Her whole body ached and it didn't take a genius to know that her foot, which had twisted in a 45 degree angle, was broken.

It also didn't take a genius to know that moving would give her great pain.

The CSI in her kicked in and she began to examine herself, realizing she was far worse off than she thought.

'Few bruised ribs, a broken leg and a concussion.' She licked the sweat of her lips and fear flashed through her eyes.

'Blood.'

Her hand immediately shot up and she winced in pain when she her fingers met with a large gash at the back of her head.

'Make that a few bruised ribs, a broken leg, a concussion, and large gash to the back of the head.'

'What the hell happened? Think Sidle think.' She forced herself. 'I was on my home and I-

Pain shot through her leg.

'God help me.' She mumbled. 'What happened? I was on my way home and I-

Drops of blood landed on her lips.

She gave a small sigh of defeat. She couldn't think straight. Every second took forever.

Wake up. That's what she needed to do. Just wake up. She didn't know the extent of the damage to her head and for all she knew, she might not wake up if she let sleep evade her.

'What would wake me up?'

'Cold case files.' She answered herself bluntly, trying to recall one of those good cases that Grissom had kept her away from. 'Lurie. Prime suspect in the death of-

She was cut off by the bright light underneath the floor she was sitting on.

She rubbed her eyes in agony. 'Crap.' Looking up, it was suddenly all so clear. 'Metal wires. 6 by 5 feet room. And a ceiling that goes on forever.'

'Shit.' She opened her mouth to shout but only blood came out and her throat hurt like hell.

"Elevator's working." She heard someone, Grissom, say and fear glazed through her eyes. Kicking the walls, she tried to force the elevetor sway but was unsuccessful.

"Just push the button." She heard Catherine say.

She tried talking again. 'Blood.'


	2. Chapter 1

**I don't know if the CSI building actually has 12 floors cause I've been to lazy to research. And I definitely don't know where the rooms and stuff are at…. I'm just making things up as I go… **

**Oh and I don't own 'Do you really want to hurt me' by Boy George. **

**And I made up the radio station. Just in case you were wondering.**

**The grammar issues are mine and mine alone. **

**Chapter 1**

"_Just push the button"_

She gritted her teeth, expecting the worse as the ceiling inched its way closer.

1…

2…

She smiled in irony. She hadn't meant it literally but she'd always thought she would die at work. And now she was actually here, inching to her death… on an elevator.

3..

4..

5…

'What a way to go.' She told herself, being careful not to talk. She couldn't figure out why, but her throat was burning like hell and she felt as if she had just drank a whole bottle of acid. She figured that it must have had something to do with how she had gotten there and she would have contemplated on it, if it were not for the fact that she was nearing death.

6.

PING!

She breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she heard and felt the elevator come to a stop.

'Break room. Grissom's handing out assignments.' She realized. She heard Grissom and Catherine's footsteps fade. Her eyes widened when she was realized that she was halfway through the top.

The ceiling seemed clearer now and she shuddered at the thought of being crushed into it.

'Can't I just die right now?' She hoped to God that somebody would realize that she had disappeared.

'They realize I disappear and then what? They suddenly decide to go look for me atop an elevator?'

She found it funny that in a way, she had actually escaped death. Biting her lower lip, she made a mental note to thank whoever designed the 12 story building. She had a 1 in 12 chance of dying and 11 in 12 chances of living. With her condition, that was an awful lot of chances.

She knew however that the fact that Grissom's office was in the twelfth floor decreased her chances of living down to zilch. The man spent a lot of time in his office, and she knew that it'd only be a matter of time before he'd finish handing out assignments.

'My whole life hanging in the balance with a button called 12.' She thought sarcastically.

She shook her head when she heard the elevator open up again. The ceiling however, went farther away this time. 'Lucky me.'

5

4

3

2

1

She heard a couple of lab technicians giggling and rolled her eyes. 'Headed for the seventh floor. Laboratory.' She guessed.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

The elevator screeched to a halt on the seventh and she grinned triumphantly. 'I knew it!'

She waited for the next group of people to go inside.

The guessing game only lasted a few minutes. A couple of times the elevator had ran up to the tenth floor which had somewhat freaked her out.

'What the hell happened to me?'

As if by cue a piece of paper fell out of her pocket. A frown spread across her features when she read it.

_CSI Sidle,_

_Your life in the hands of your co-workers. Literally. _

_I told you not to get in that car but you did. I tried to save your life, did I not? I also told you to stop shouting and look where it got you? And now you're here. Here because you're a stubborn bitch._

_If they ever do get you out of this, I will come back for you. If you beg enough, I might even take you with me._

_-Charlie._

_

* * *

_

"Where's Sara?" Grissom asked as soon as he realized that Sara wasn't in the break room. He found it disconcerting that the CSI was not in her usual spot. She was usually the first one there when he gave out assignments and when he'd rung her a few times a couple of hours ago to ask about the case she was working on, the CSI hadn't answered.

"Maybe she's at home? Sleeping? She has worked a double shift. The woman needs a break." Warrick suggested, trying to ease the tension in the air. He shifted in his seat and looked at the rest of the team uneasily

"Her cars still in the lot. I think I saw it."

It was at that moment that Greg barged into the break room carrying a hand held stereo.

"Isn't this your day-off?" Nick started.

Greg ignored the questioning looks from his co-workers and waved Catherine off before she could open her mouth. "Listen to this." He whispered as he pressed play on the stereo.

'_Do you really want to hurt me?  
Do you really want to make me cry?'_

The 80's song by Culture Club played in the background. A minute later, the song stopped and a DJ started talking in the background.

"That request was for the CSIs from a Sara Sidle. Requested by a Charlie.Sara must be a rich girl hiring someone else to do the requests for her." A shuffle of papers could be heard in the background and the DJ started talking again. "Some guy named Charlie wants a Dr. Grissom to stay out of his office because a Sa- What kind of request is this!"

The tape stopped and the rest of the team looked at Greg, confused. "I found a note in my car a week ago. It said to record the 84.3 station at exactly 8 am Wednesday. It sounded weird."

"What does this have to do with Sara?"

"Right after I heard that. I wanted to know what the rest of the letter said, so I went over to the station and asked for it."

He fumbled for the letter in his pocket and showed it to them.

_Dr. Grissom,_

_Stay out of your office._

_Follow my orders and Sara might get out alive. _

_I'll call you soon. _

_Charlie._

Silence filled the room.

"Please tell me Sara's here." Greg pleaded, somehow he knew from the worried look on their faces that the answer was no. He mentally slapped himself that he hadn't listened to the tape sooner.

* * *

"Brass, where are you?" 

"CSI. Just got here. I'm about to park."

"Is Sara's car still there?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you check it out for me?"

"Sure."

Silence.

"What's going on Grissom?"

"What's going on?"

"I'm going up there. I feel dizzy. Ammonia and bleach. Smelled it in her car. Not a good match-up."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2  
**

Violent. That's how Sara remembered her mother. She could still remember her mother's devious grin, brandishing a butcher's knife in front of her, teasing her, frightening her, as she held her father's hand, hoping to God that he would wake up and save her. She could still remember how her own life had flashed before her eyes when her mother stabbed her only to end up waking in a hospital bed.

Everything was going to be alright, the nurse had told her and she had believed it. It took abusive parent after abusive parent for her to realize that no, everything was never going to be alright. There was always going to be something wrong. It was a curse that she could never break.

"Two roads diverged in yellow wood. I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference." She quoted, ignoring the blood that followed as soon as she finished saying it. She didn't mind. She could barely talk now and she'd be wishing she'd be damned to eternity if her last words were something to the effect off 'Where the hell are my keys?'

She sighed and wiped the blood of her mouth. For the past hour she noticed how her breathing had slowed, drastically. Every breath she was able to take seemed like a blessing to her.

A couple of times over the hours she had passed out unknowingly and somehow she knew that it had something to do with whoever had done this to her.

'_I also told you to stop shouting and look where it got you?' _She remembered the note's contents and shook her head as she tried to recollect everything that had just happened to no avail.

The sound of the elevator opening jerked her away from her thoughts and before she could react, the low rumble in her stomach pushed out what was left of what she had eaten the night before. 'Basically nothing.'

"It's Brass. He found chlorine gas in Sara's car. Inhaled some of it probably. We need to help him." She heard Grissom say.

"Grissom, you don't think that Sara-" A voice, Nick, started.

Ignoring the conversation, she felt her eyes droop as the elevator went down to the first floor. All the movement was making her feel a lot more sick than she already was.

'Chloramine.' She told herself, realizing what had been wrong with her. If she did inhale some of it, her respiratory tract was probably wasting away by the minute.

Over the past hour she had fainted more times than she ever had in her entire life. Thinking only made her feel even more dizzier. She closed her eyes hoping that the pain would go away. 'Sleep. That's all I want. Just for a few minutes.'

She hoped to God that Brass was okay.

* * *

"Grissom, Brass doesn't look so good." They heard Hodges say as soon as he and Nick headed out of the elevator. The two of them had rushed down as soon as the words 'Ammonia and bleach' came out of the police captain's mouth, knowing that the mixture the two created a toxic gas called chloramine.

The police captain held his face to a trash can, vomiting as if the life in him was going out. He lifted his head and looked at Grissom, pale-faced. "Is Sara?"

"She's missing." Grissom replied. It hurt him to say the words out loud. He'd hoped it was all a misunderstanding, that Sara had gone home and forgotten to go to shift. He shook his head at Brass' next words.

"You don't think." Brass spoke between vomits. "Sara inhaled the stuff did you? It's killing me. You don't think she's-

"Don't say that." Grissom cut in, not wanting him to continue. He watched as a couple of paramedics entered the building, aiding Brass, who had turned paler.

Brass grunted when they placed him on a gurney, motioning for the paramedics to stop. "Grissom, right before I-

"Sir, you need to stop talking."

A glare was all the paramedic got as the police captain fumbled for something in his pocket.

"I found this a week ago. I thought it was a prank" He told the entomologist, handing the supervisor a piece of paper that was very much like the one Greg had found in the radio station.

_Captain Jim Brass,_

_Tell everyone to stay away from Sara's car on Thursday._

_And tell Dr. Grissom to follow my orders. _

_Sara didn't. And look at where it's going to get her?_

_Charlie_.

He watched as Grissom's eyes widened and continued. "I also found this in Sara's car. Charlie, or whoever, must have given it to her."

Grissom nodded and watched as the impatient paramedic hauled the gurney outside, oblivious to what was happening.

_Sara, _

_Stop disobeying me._

_Why are you so stubborn? _

_Charlie_

His thoughts drifted to the note Greg had found at the radio station.

_Stay away from your office._ Curiosity spread across his features. He was desperate. If there was something in his office that was going to help him save Sara then he had to know. He eyed Nick who had gone silent after he had read the notes. "Ask Warrick to help you process Sara's car. Tell Catherine and Greg to talk to the DJ in the radio station."

"Where will you be?"

"In my office, the note said something about staying away from it. I have to know why."


	4. Chapter 3

**Not to proud about this chapter. I was having the occasional writers block when I wrote it. I'm too tired to even attempt to have it proofread. So I apologize in advance. **

**Chapter 3**

"Let's just get this over with." Warrick stated, a hint of irritation in his voice. Grissom had ordered the two of them to process Sara's car and from the looks of it, Nick was not the least bit interested in getting it done. He slowly bagged one of the notes that Sara had received and frowned. "Man, are you even going to attempt to help me?"

"Look, man. I told you. We're not going to find anything." Nick answered, his hands waving a note that he had found a couple of days ago in his locker.

_Nick,_

_Chlorine gas and a bunch of typewritten notes._

_That's all they're going to find._

_Charlie._

Warrick held no interest in the note. He took it from the CSI with one of his gloved hands and bagged it, much to Nick's surprise. "We really should start processing."

"What if we don't find anything?"

"What if we do?" Warrick replied, his eyes lingering on a picture of the team that Sara had kept in the glove compartment. It was way back in the days when Sara was fresh from California and he had gambling problems. Sara's face was cut out of the picture and he wondered whether it was Sara, or the suspect who had done it. 'Not Sara.' He told himself, realizing that it was definitely the latter. "The guy's human. He can slip up like the rest of us."

"He hasn't yet." Nick whispered, mostly to himself. He walked closer to Sara's car and started processing. It didn't make sense arguing with Warrick. Time was of the essence and every second he spent arguing, Sara was probably paying for with her life. As much as he had wanted to not believe the note, somehow a larger part of him did.

Hours later, they found that the note was, once again, right.

Chlorine gas and a bunch of typewritten notes. That was all they did find.

* * *

A sharp pain that traveled through her neck and head woke Sara up with a start. It only took her a second to realize that someone was going up the elevator. Drifting in and out of consciousness, the words Catherine uttered barely registered. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to concentrate. 

"Grissom's in his office. He needs more help than I do." Sara blinked as soon as she heard Catherine say the words. 'In his office? Why the hell am I still alive?' She shook her head in confusion. It dawned to her that there were 10 elevators in the CSI building. She'd always thought that maybe whoever had done this to her had planned everything well.

'Perhaps not.' She told herself. She recognized Greg's voice as soon as he started talking and a look of confusion registered across her features. "Didn't the note specifically say that Grissom should stay out of his office?"

"So?" She heard Catherine reply.

'Stay out of his office?' Sara frowned. 'But that would save me.' It seemed ironic that her killer would say this. It almost seemed as if 'Charlie' was trying to save her life. It was either that or the reason he was telling Grissom to stay out of his office was completely unrelated to why she was in the elevator.

"Fine. I'll go get the lab results for the notes we found and get up there." She heard Greg say. She sighed in relief. That meant that Greg wasn't going straight up. 'Just how many shots at life do I get?'

'Notes.' She berated herself. She realized that the key to everything was for her to remember everything that had happened. She always had a good memory and she hated that her concussion was taking it away from her. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to remember anything that might help her.

* * *

**FLASHBACK:**

"You should really watch where you're going!" Sara scolded as she helped the injured man up. She frowned in concern when she felt him shiver as soon she touched him. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just a little flustered."

She chuckled. "You should be. You almost got ran over by a bike!"

"I've never seen you around here before." He replied, a grin on his face. She was surprised at how fast he had changed his demeanor. He seemed confident now and she raised her brow. Seeing him stumbling across the grass, he'd thought the man was helpless. 'Guess not.'

"That's because I've never been here before." She answered. She smiled at the thought of herself actually having a day off. It'd been a long time since she had gotten one and she never would've guessed that she would actually have fun. Grissom had told her to get a life, and here she was, getting one in Pahrump.

A smile spread across the man's face. "Workaholic?"

"You could say that." She replied and as if by cue her pager went off, the smile on her face quickly fading when she saw who had paged her. Grissom. "God damn it, Grissom! Case? What? Its my day off!"

"Your boss?"

"Yeah." She replied, already heading out.

"I didn't get your name!"

"Sara Sidle!" She yelled back.

His eyes flickered in the sunlight. "Sara Sidle."

* * *

"Catherine told me that you might need help." Greg announced as soon as he entered Grissom's office. The entomologist only grunted in reply and it didn't take him long to realized that he wasn't welcome. Grissom seemed to be busy with whatever he was doing. He cleared his throat, hoping to ease the tension. "What are you doing?" 

"The note told me to stay away from here. I have to know why." Grissom replied, his eyes lingering on a piece of wire that led straight out. He had never seen it before, but then again he knew that the CSI building was doing some rewiring. He knelt down and touched it. "Greg, do you know what this wire is for?"

"Probably from all the reconstruction going on. Nothing weird about that. I think it leads outside." Greg replied. A curious frown was plastered on the supervisors face as he inspected the wires. Greg was right. It did lead out the door.

A frown spread across Grissom's face. "I can't see where it goes."

"Probably goes in the wall."

"Maybe." He replied. It didn't look like any work had been done on the wall. And the wire looked as if it went underneath the door. He looked at Greg who had begun inspecting the inside of the office with curiosity and sighed. "Did the labtechs find anything that might help us?"

"No." Grissom knew that he really didn't need to ask. If they'd found something he knew that Greg would waste no time telling him. Nevertheless, disappointment spread across his face. He clenched his teeth and stood up, thinking of useless he was without any evidence. 'Follow the evidence.' He had used to say. And now he didn't have any.

"You know what, we're looking outside of the door. Maybe what were looking for is what's inside." Greg suggested. He looked at Grissom who looked as if he was a million miles away and shook his head. "Let's close the door."

"No. Don't. I don't want anything to be compromised. I'm going to go check on Nick and Warrick. " Grissom replied. He looked at the doubtful look on the young's face. He stood up and headed out, not knowing Greg was about to disobey his next words. "Don't do anything I didn't tell you to do."

* * *

"Bingo." A smile spread across Greg's face as soon as he saw what had been behind the door. He had closed the door in half so he could at least see what was on the other side. Another note. 

_Grissom,_

_Didn't I tell you not to go in?_

_Charlie._

He gritted his teeth. He was about to rush towards the lab when he heard the phone in Grissom's office ring. He frowned when he saw that there was no number registering on the screen. He picked it up, already knowing who it was.

'Dr. Grissom?'

'It's Greg.'

'Greg Sanders. I applaud you for obeying my orders.'

'Where the hell is Sara?'

'Top the third elevator in the building that your in.'

'You're bluffing.'

'No, I'm not. I don't ever lie.'

'What did Sara ever do to you?'

'Nothing.'

'And you're hurting her?'

'Mr. Sanders. I suggest you head out right now. Sara could die.'

'Bullshit. I want you to stop bluffing. Sara's not on top of an elevator.'

'She is and you have twenty seconds.'

'Twenty what? Till she dies?'

'No. Fifteen seconds.'

Silence.

'If she really is there. Tell me why you're making it so easy for me.'

'I'm not. Ten seconds.'

'You are.'

'I'm not Greg. I'm only telling you because you're about to die anyway.'

'What?'

'Five seconds. Head out.'

"What the?" Greg mumbled as soon as the line went out. He eyed the room and for the first time, noticed the box hidden behind the door. It didn't even take a second for him to recognize what it was. Irony was all he could think about. If he'd had followed the man's orders and not pried he could have saved Sara.

The explosion came in an instant.

"Greg!"


	5. Chapter 4

**Don't worry. I didn't kill Greg off. He's an important part of this story…. This is a short snippet of the things to come. Sadly, its another cliffhanger.  
**

**Chapter 4  
**

The explosion shook the whole building. Almost every person in the building ran, their faces pale, fearing that they had been attacked.

In the eleventh floor, Gil Grissom stood, amidst all the debris, visibly shaking. He had seen the look on Greg's face, he had seen how the CSI had mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' before it had happened.

He gulped as soon as the smoke wore out. The sight of Greg's bloody body on the floor alarmed him. Hastily, he headed towards the CSI, hoping to find a pulse. With gentle ease, he turned Greg over and checked for one, relief sweeping across his face when he found that the CSI had one. Using a handkerchief he had kept in his pocket, he wiped the blood and grime off Greg's face. A sigh escaped his lips when he heard his name being called.

"I'm right here! One of my CSIs is hurt!"

In an instant, a couple of EMTs were headed his way.

"Greg, helps here." The entomologist mumbled. He took one last look at the CSI and noticed a piece of paper crumpled in between his hands. His eyes narrowed as soon as he realized who it had been from. He was getting more and more impatient with the man behind all this, and he hated the fact that he could barely do anything about it. He pried Greg's hand open and read the note, guilt hitting his heart like a thousand knives when he realized that he should have been in Greg's position.

A smile, one that he hadn't done all day, appeared on his face, when he recognized Greg's clear handwriting on the back of the note. Apparently, just after he had left, Greg had received a call from the suspect. The CSI had tried to write down everything that he and the man had talked about.

He clenched his teeth at some of the words Greg had written but his eyes were settled on a couple of words that Greg had underlined. Twice.

_Sara's on top of the third elevator. _

Almost immediately, he was on the stairs headed for the eleventh floor. With a push of a button he disabled the elevator and sighed not knowing what he would do if it so happened if he was too late. "Sara," He called after, but the silence was deafening. He mentally kicked himself when he realized that the CSI must have been too weak from the chloramine inhalation. He raised his voice a little higher. "Sara, if you can hear me, if you're in there, if you're alive I want you to tap something. I'm listening."

The silence that followed pained him. His eyes closed, he felt the emptiness that went with the thought of never seeing Sara. Hope fading, he reached for his pocket. 'Catherine.'

'Grissom, what's going on?'

'Greg's hurt. Bad. He's on his way to Desert Palms.'

'Jesus.'

'I found a note he wrote. Sara's on top of one of the elevators. Third.'

'How did he find that out?'

'It's a long story. I don't have time. Right now, I just want to see her. Call for help. I've disabled the elevator. I'm going to go check if she's-

'Grissom, maybe you should just wait. What if she's-

'Don't say that.'

'But what if? Can you handle it?'

'I-

'Grissom.'

'She's alive. I know it.'

On top of the elevator, Sara sat motionless, fear contorted into her features. In front of her, a box, in the shape of an alarm clock, sat. She had ignored it before, thinking that, like the wires, it was only another part of the elevator. However, right after the building had shook, it had revealed that it wasn't.

'2:00 minutes.' The digital screen blinked repeatedly, almost as if it were mocking her. She thought at first that it had gotten stuck, that luck had been on her side, but the wires that she noticed led straight up to the twelfth floor exit proved her thoughts wrong. Whoever had done this had planned it out carefully. The explosion outside had triggered its power, and the exit, if ever opened, would trigger its countdown.

Beside her, another note that she had found in one of her pockets lay, crumpled.

_My dear Sara,_

_If my orders were not followed, sometime in the next few hours, that black box in front of you will be more noticeable. _

_If your keen CSI senses have probably noticed, the door on the twelfth floor will trigger the timer on the device.. If you look more closely, there is an antenna sticking out on the far left corner of the box. It connects to 6 different devices spread across the whole CSI building. If that door opens, you have two minutes to evacuate everyone in the CSI building. _

_Originally, I had left it at that. But, since my feelings for you go deep, I decided to give you another choice. If you look closely, the bolts that connect the wires holding your elevator up are loose. There is a reason for this. I have made it so that you, assuming that you are still in the state that I have left you in, would find it easier to disconnect them. _

_Count the wires, Sara. There are five of them. The wires are connected to the five, shall I say, toys that I have put all over the CSI building. Every time you disconnect one of these wires, one of the five devices will deactivate, except for the one in front of you. However, once, you disconnect everything, all of my toys will deactivate, including the one in front of you._

_As you already know, these wires support the elevator, and right now, as you are dependent on the elevator, removing these wires will kill you._

_If you probably would have guessed, I have planned this out carefully. That is why I have also taken the liberty of disabling all of the elevator safety measures that they had added in case the wires were to be ineffective. _

_Think Sara. You should know by now that I never lie. The choice is yours._

_Charlie._


	6. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the reviews. I really appreciate them. They keep me going. Anyway, I'm not that much of a writer, but I have dozens of ideas for stories in my head. If anyone wants one, just tell me. **

**Chapter 5**

"And who might you be?" The head nurse asked, eyeing him curiously. She had been given specific instructions not to let anyone see the two new patients, that had been hurt, according to what she had heard, by a sick mad man. 'A serial killer on the loose?'

The man smiled gently. "Jim is one of my brothers."

'No. Not a serial killer. Not yet anyway.' The weary police captain had told her. Reminding her again that she were not to allow any civilian in. Not even a family member. She found the request confusing. Rarely had she come across a patient who did not want any visitors. Nevertheless she opened her mouth and passed on what the injured police captain had told her. "I'm sorry sir, but the patient has requested that no family member be allowed in."

The hearty laugh that followed sent a flush through her face. Had she done something wrong? She watched as the man reached for something in his shirt pocket. He showed what she recognized as a CSI ID. She shook her head, noticing that the man had done it somewhat abruptly. "I'm a CSI. I'm here to ask my good friend Jim a couple of questions."

She nodded. Looking as if she were contemplating on whether or not she should let the man in. With a wave of a hand, she dismissed him. "Fine. You can go. But hurry up. The patient is resting."

Already heading towards his destination, the man turned back and smirked at the nurse, who seemed to have gone back to whatever she had been doing before he had interrupted her. He found it ironic at how easily he could kill Jim Brass in his sleep. The temptation was alarming. But no. He was not a murderer. He would never kill anyone. At least not with his own hands.

Reaching into the bag he had brought, he took out an old lab coat that he had found, much to his luck, unattended in the hospital. With a smile on his lips, he entered the room, expecting to see the police captain resting. He found, however, that the nurse had been wrong.

Brass sat upright on the bed, a grumpy look on his face, beside him a trash can that he had been vomiting on for the past couple of hours. The irritated glint on the captains eyes showed that this was not where he had wanted to be right now. He seemed oblivious to the man who had just entered and it wasn't until he had heard someone clear his throat that he had actually begin to acknowledge the man's presence.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like a million bucks. Can I go now? I have a job to do."

"Not right now. Not yet anyway." The man replied. "I need to give you a shot."

"Shot?" Brass raised a suspicious brow raised. He was still feeling drowsy from the medicine that they had given him and he wanted nothing more than to leave the hospital and help find Sara. Hearing about Greg didn't help that matter either. His CSI senses, the ones that had rubbed off on him after years of friendship with Grissom, took hold almost immediately. Something was off, only he couldn't point out what. He grunted and continued. "I don't need anymore shots. I've been asleep all day."

"Are you a doctor, Captain Brass?" The man asked, as he reached for Brass's shoulder to administer the shot. He watched the police captain drift into unconsciousness before he could even protest. He was giving him the same sedative that he had given Sara, only in lesser amounts. If he had measured it right, Brass would wake up just in time for the fireworks.

"You know that I'm not." Brass slurred.

"Good." A smirk appeared on his face. "Because I'm not either."

"Wha-

The smirk on the man's face grew even larger. Hearing someone coming, he abruptly took his lab coat off and tilted his head at the police captain, who despite his efforts, could not even get out of bed. "You look tired Captain Brass. You should get your rest. I'm going to go check on Greg now."

He placed a note in Brass's hands and smiled at the oncoming nurse.

"Is everything alright here?" The on-duty nurse asked as soon as she saw Brass's sleeping form.

"Everything's great."

* * *

'One person dead is better than a hundred others. She told herself as she started removing the first bolt. 'Even if it is me.' She grinded her teeth in irritation. Charlie had been right, the bolts were loose. But they weren't loose enough to pull out. She found it ironic that even in near death, she still had to work her way through. 

"Sara. Are you in there?"

The tenderness of Grissom's voice sent shivers down her spine. Closing her eyes, she savored them for a moment. His was probably the last voice she'd ever hear, and she was in no way complaining.

"Sara, I'm opening the-

Her eyes shot open before Grissom could finish. In what seemed like an adrenaline rush, she opened her mouth to warn him, not realizing how much pain would follow afterwards. "Grissom don't!"

On the other side, Grissom's eyes widened at the series of coughs, and what sounded like, vomiting, that followed her words. He had completely forgotten about the respiratory problems that chloramine could cause. A look of worry and confusion registered on his face when he realized that something else was going on.

"I'm going to slide a pen and a piece of paper underneath the door. I need you to tell me what's wrong."

She looked up and abruptly reached for the pen and paper. Should she tell him? She couldn't. It would only make matters harder. With a sigh, she conjured up what she thought was not a lie, but a vague version of the truth.

_I'm fine, just a little flustered. There's a trap behind the door. Don't open it. I figured out a way to deactivate it. Just give me time._


	7. Chapter 6

**Shortest chapter yet. (Aside from the prologue…)**

**The next chapters will explain why the hell Charlie is a psycho dood… **

**Chapter 6**

'I figured out a way to deactivate it.' She rolled her eyes. 'Not without dying, though.' She was telling the truth. Not the whole the truth, but the truth nonetheless. She pictured him in front of the elevator, palms placed on the door, a worried expression that she rarely saw on his face- the same look that he had when she was attacked in a mental facility.

Placing the note back out, it took a couple of seconds before the entomologist had put it back in again. She should have known that Grissom was, in no way, gullible.

"Trap? What kind of trap? You're not okay. I know about the chloramine. Brass- well, he inhaled some of it in your car." He paused, not wanting to worry her. "He's, uh, perfectly fine though. Everyone is."

The obvious hesitation in Grissom's voice put a frown on her face. Giving the bolt a few more turns, she watched as it fell onto the metal floor- a loud 'clunk' sound following it. She scribbled her reply hastily.

_Grissom, I'm not that naïve. I heard an explosion. What was it?_

_Trap? He planted explosives in the building. I'm deactivating it as we speak. Just to be safe, you should get everyone to evacuate the building. You can come back for me once all this is over._

To that Grissom had a somewhat flustered reply. "There was an explosion. Greg's hurt, but he's alive. I only have you to worry about."

She blinked. The entomologist's voice seemed closer. Realizing that he was now sitting on the floor, she ignored the pen and paper and leaned into the part of the door where she felt Grissom was at. Trying to keep the pain at bay, she whispered. "You always have me to worry about."

Realizing the reality of her words, he frowned- unable to say anything in protest. He let out a loud sigh. "Have dinner with me."

Her eyes widened in both surprise and confusion. "What?"

"Have dinner with me." He repeated.

"Not the right time."

With a sigh, he leaned closer. Barely audible, he was straining to hear her voice. He sighed. It was better than not seeing her at all. "It's the only way I can get rid of the feeling that this is the last time I'll ever hear your voice."

His face paled at the silence that followed. "Too late?"

'Clunk.' She had successfully removed the second screw. She heard Grissom shift positions and she realized that he had heard it. Before he could ask, she spoke. "Complicated."

"Why?"

Shaking her head in defeat, she reached for the crumpled note that she had received from Charlie and placed it underneath the door.

"What is this?"

"It's why."

* * *

**FLASHBACK:**

'Sidle.'

'Sara?'

'Who is this?'

'It's Charlie.'

'Charlie who?'

'Don't you remember?'

'I'm sorry. Who is this?'

'You don't remember do you?'

Before she could say anymore, she heard a clicking sound on the other end of the line. She rolled her eyes, annoyed at what had just happened. Beside her, Nick sat, case files in front of them, a curious look on his face. "Who was that?"


	8. Chapter 7

**I wrote this chapter in a jiffy- cause I didn't want to break my 'update every week' rule. **

**Chapter 7**

Greg winced in pain as he tried to get up to no avail, with the morphine gone, sitting up was definitely not an option. He shifted to his side, suddenly aware of the other person in the room. "Who are you?"

"Don't you recognize me?" The grimace on Greg's face grew into anger when he realized who it was. How could he not? The bastard darn near killed him. Reaching for the call button he gritted his teeth.

"You wouldn't want to do that." Charlie spoke, his eyes flickering with delight, pointing a gun at the CSI. "Isn't it nice to put a face to the voice?"

Defeated, the CSI let go of the call button.

"Scared are we?" Charlie spoke, noticing the CSI's flushed face.

Greg huffed. "You would be too, if I was pointing a gun at your face."

"Ah, that's where you're wrong. You have something to live for. I don't." Charlie replied. Tall, well-built, and most likely in his early 40's, the man was not the old, raving mad man that Greg had imagined.

"Oh that's right. I forgot. You're a lunatic. What exactly are you getting out of all of this?"

The man didn't even blink. "Justice."

"Justice, eh?" Greg rolled his eyes, looking as if he were trying to get on the man's nerves. "It'll be justice alright. The way I see it, they're probably going to give you a life term in prison, without bail." He paused. "And that's only if they give you a plea bargain."

"Do you think I care?"

The CSI shrugged. "You do not know how many mad men suddenly turned normal after facing the possibility of a death penalty ruling from the jury."

"Ah. Death row," Charlie nodded. "Where people suddenly turn into a modern day version of Jesus Christ."

"Exactly." Greg snapped. He'd hoped that Charlie would find fear at the thought of ending his days on an electric chair, but the man had simply smiled at the thought.. Annoyed, Greg eyed the gun that was pointed at him and rolled his eyes. "If you're going to shoot me, shoot me. Otherwise, put the gun down. I'm not going to do anything and that barrel is scaring the hell out of me."

The gun was immediately put down. "You know. For someone whose life is in danger, you really should watch what you say."

The CSI's eyes widened at a sudden realization. Blinking in confusion, he eyed the man. "You're not crazy."

"I'm not what?"

Greg continued. "You put the gun down. That's compassion. Crazy people don't have that kind of compassion."

"Oh. And I suppose locking your friend on top of an elevator filled with explosives constitutes as compassion?"

"Why are you doing this?" Greg flushed, anger and hurt mixed with his words.

"Didn't I just tell you?" Charlie sighed, annoyed at having to repeat himself. "Justice."

"Justice? How can hurting an innocent person be justice?"

"Innocent?" A smirk appeared on the man's face. "Sara?"

The CSI gritted his teeth. "Sara would never do anything to deserve this."

"Before Sara left San Francisco, she was working in a case. Ask her what it was." The man paused. "And I'll be damned if she still doesn't know who I am."

* * *

**Flashback:**

"This is Sara Sidle. She's one of the best CSI's in San Francisco. She'll be working on your case."

The man stood up to acknowledge the brunette's presence. He offered his hand, and the CSI shook it, firmly. "I promise I'll find whoever did this."

Sadness in his eyes, the man pointed to the unconscious patient. "I suppose you need to do a rape kit."

Sara nodded.

"I'll be outside."

_

* * *

_

"Were you just planning on making me wait here until you die?" Grissom snapped, hurt evident in his voice. It was the first time he had spoken since he had read the note, which now lay crumpled in his fists, the possibility of him ripping it to shreds increasing by the minute.

Aggravated, the supervisor's fist met with the door, stirring the CSI who sat on the other side of it to reality. She blinked. "I don't exactly have an option here."

"What about the option of telling me so I could fix it?"

"And risk the lives of everyone else in a two mile radius?"

"If it'll save you," Grissom rationalized. "Then yes."

"You cannot possibly be thinking straight."


	9. Chapter 8

**Flash back chapter. Things start to make sense here- at least I think so. Thanks for the reviews. You guys are really cool.**

**Chapter 8**

**FLASHBACK:**

"So you're saying that you found your wife on top of an elevator?" Sara questioned, doubt evident in her voice. This was by far the most farfetched testimony she had ever heard. What she saw, was a man desperate to escape a crime he committed.

The man nodded. He caught the suspecting tone in Sara's voice and gave out a breath of disappointment. "You don't believe me do you?"

She pondered the question for a moment. Part of her didn't, part of her did. She saw the very real possibility of innocence in the man's eyes, and yet all the evidence said otherwise. The evidence said that he had gone through temporary insanity after learning of his wife's love affair and murdered her in the process. "Look, if you plead temporary insanity then you-

"I haven't done anything wrong!" He cut her off, venom in his voice.

"The rape kit tested positive and we found your DNA on her."

"She's my wife. It's no wonder you found it."

She blinked, annoyed at the sarcastic tone in the man's voice. "Do you regularly force your wife to have sex?"

"I've told you a million times! I haven't done anything wrong!" He scowled, anger and frustration mixed with his words. "I did not rape my wife and I did not try to hide her body on that elevator! I called 911, didn't I?"

Sara rubbed her neck and shifted her seat. She had not slept a day since she had gotten the case. She would have been done with it days ago- but she had the sinking feeling that she was sending an innocent man to jail.

She was wrong.

"I didn't do it." The man pleaded. "Please believe me. No one else does."

She shook her head. She didn't know what to believe. "Your testimony isn't going to hold up in court. Stop holding back. Tell me everything."

"I can't."

"Would you rather go to jail?" She asked bluntly, silence following her words. She looked at the man sympathetically. He had buried his face in his hands at her words- frightened at the thought of going to jail.

Standing up, she sighed. She didn't have time for this. She was a CSI not a lawyer. She had been sent on a wild goose chase- just cause of the man's sworn testimony- and she wasn't about to do it again. Gil Grissom had invited her to work on a case in Vegas- a once in a life time opportunity.

"I'll be going now." She mumbled, as she headed out the door.

The man stood up and blocked her way.

"I do have something." Reaching for something in his pocket, he handed a piece of folded paper to her. "Don't read it here. Keep it to yourself. Please."

She nodded and walked out. Shaking her head, she told herself that reading it would only send her into another wild goose chase. She had a Vegas-bound plane to catch and she didn't have the time for it.

She instead handed the the piece of paper to the CSI who was replacing her. "The suspect gave this to me. Go process this."

"You're really leaving are you?"

She smiled. "Would you pass up the opportunity to work with Gil Grissom?"

The CSI gave a low chuckle. "You have a point there."

Inside the man sat frowning. Fear in his eyes. He held another note- something that he had not wanted Sara to see. He re-read it one last time and closed his eyes. "Please, Charlie, don't hurt her."

* * *

"Sara." She heard Grissom call her. She slurred and savored her well-needed rest one last time before she opened her eyes to reality. Sitting up she whimpered at the sharp pain that traveled down her spine. Reality sucked. 

"What's going on?" Sara asked, realizing that Grissom wasn't the only person on the other side. There were other people now and the sound of them shuffling around was making her feel nauseous.

A smooth southern accent- one that she did not recognize, answered her. "Ms. Sidle, I'm from the FBI explosives unit. We're in the process of looking for the other four explosives in the building. Do you suspect the work of terrorists?"

She laughed out loud at the question- momentarily forgetting the pain that would follow. Ceaseless coughing followed and from what seemed like the worst few second of her life, her whole body shook from convulsions.

"Are you alright, Ms. Sidle?"

Speaking through clenched teeth, she replied. "Never better."


	10. Chapter 9

**I decided to take out the whole Charlie is a woman (huh?) twist in the story cause a lot of you guys were confused. I took out the 'woman' line in Chapter 7. –hypnotizes readers- Charlie is a man. And he is crazy. Yep.**

**Thanks for the reviews. You guys are great.**

**Chapter 10**

"Bingo." Nick smirked as he reached for the AFIS printout. After the recent explosion, the whole lab had been evacuated and the new lab technician had left him on his own to wait for the results. With sheer luck, hours earlier, he had found some unknown set of prints on the note that was addressed to him.

Hiding from the FBI, who had been scurrying in and out of the building, telling people to evacuate, he barely knew anything that went on in the past couple of hours.

Away from their prying eyes, he had sat behind the table, occasionally kneeling up for the results.

He fumbled for his cell phone unsuccessfully in his pocket. No good. In a hurry, he had left it in his locker after he'd heard of the unknown fingerprint in the note.

Reaching for the phone behind him, he dialed Warrick's cell phone number, knowing full well that the CSI was somewhere on the other side of the lab doing a discrete audio analysis of the recordings Greg had found.

He cringed slightly when he heard the ringing of his colleagues cell phone from where he was.

'Nick, what the hell?'

'Sorry. This is important. I found the owner of the unknown print.'

'I'm listening.'

'Michael Shapiro. Wanted for the murder of his wife- went missing 6 years ago. Guess who was working on their case?'

'Sara?'

'And it gets even better. Sara never got to close the case. A young entry level CSI did it for her.'

'That's motive. Guys probably pissed that she left a newbie to do her work for her.'

'What about you? You have anything?'

'Nada. I've been listening for some kind of subliminal message in the song that our guy requested from the radio show. I don't have any leads.'

'Maybe he's just a fan of the song.'

'Maybe.'

'Care to fill me in on what's been going on? I've been out of it for a couple of hours. Blame it on the fingerprint.'

'There was an explosion- Greg's hurt badly but he's stable and they found Sara.'

'Is she?'

'She's alive. If she were dead, I'd be in a manhunt right now. It's still not good though. I don't know all the details but, uh, Grissom found her on top of the third elevator. They can't get her out. Apparently opening the exit to let her out would trigger explosives that are set all over the building.'

'Fucking bastard. You better cuff me once we find him- cause I won't be able to help myself.'

'Yeah, but whose going to cuff me?'

'Think we can get a clearer point of view of this whole thing from Sara?'

'I don't think so. The FBIs taken over the whole case. You know they don't like to work with us CSIs.'

'I'm going to search online for facts about this case. Go try and talk to Sara.'

* * *

"Uh, if the twelfth floor elevator door triggers the explosives, why not go a floor down and let Sidle get out on the eleventh?" One of the agents asked, his eyebrow raised. There was a chuckle from the rest of the FBIs at the apparently concise solution to their problems but Grissom shook his head in disagreement. 

"That would be too easy. Our perp is too smart for that." He mumbled his eyes lingering on the elevator door.

The agent frowned. "It's worth a shot."

"Would it be worth a shot if it triggers the explosives?"

"Won't happen."

"What if it will?"

There was a look of disbelief in the agents eyes. "Whose working on the case here, Grissom?"

"She's my CSI."

"Nothing's going to happen to her."


	11. Chapter 10

**Early update (I think.) :P **

**I've written the ending for this fic… finally. Now I only have to write the chapters that will help me get there. Sweet. **

Sara Sidle shifted uncomfortably when the lights underneath the elevator lit up. With only two wires holding her up, the ride to the tenth floor made her even more nauseous- if that was even possible.

She'd heard of their plan and it seemed too good to be true - the fact that Gil Grissom was having doubt concerning it didn't help matters either. A sigh escaped her lips as she moved towards the last two wires loosening the last two bolts just enough for her to pull them out with about three twists just in case anything went wrong.

She wasn't the type of person who'd put blame on others and she'd be damning herself through hell and back if she ever started now.

She heard something creak open and she looked up to find Grissom and a couple of FBIs looking down at her.

"See? Nothing happened." One of the agents exclaimed and her eyes immediately snapped towards the explosives. Nothing did happen. The digital 2:00 continued to mock her.

Forcing a smile, she cringed slightly at the look of concern on Grissom's face. He looked as if he were studying every bruise, every broken bone in her body and it made her feel somewhat weaker. Frowning, she decided that she'd give anything for one of his poker faces. At least she didn't know how he felt then.

'Do I look that bad?' She signed and confusion registered on the entomologist face.

'Where did you learn how to sign?'

She twitched her lips realizing how she'd deliberately forgotten to tell the entomologist about the sign language class she'd been taking. She knew he would be against it because it gave her less sleeping time.

'Right after I found out you were going deaf.'

'I never told you that.'

'There are other ways to know.'

He cocked his head. 'I had an operation.'

'I know.' She replied, remembering those times she'd leave the lab frustrated because she thought Grissom was ignoring her.

An ironic smirk appeared on his face. . 'What else don't you know about me?'

She smiled faintly, eyeing the timer at the same time. She searched her mind for anyone, anybody whom she could've done anything this wrong to but could not find any. She tried placing herself on the position of all the murderers she'd caught- but could not think of anyone smart enough to pull everything that was happening off. She closed her eyes. The digital screen continued blinking. 2:00.

'This is a bad idea, Grissom.'

'I know but it's not my call.' He signed. He caught a sight of Sara's leg and cringed slightly, knowing that she would not be able to walk in it for weeks. It was amazing how she had managed to stay conscious. If the bloody wound on her head, in her forehead had not sent her to dreamland- the surely the pain on her left leg would.

She shrugged at the look on his face. 'It stopped hurting a couple of hours ago.'

'Liar.' He mouthed.

Her expression softened. 'If I die I want you to have the entomology text book you gave me.'

With a pause, she continued. 'The plant you gave me stays on top of my grave.'

He hesitated for a moment before signing back. It annoyed him that she was even thinking about dying. Dying was not an option he had wanted to be have. 'You aren't going to die.'

'I-

"Miss Sidle, were going to go throw you a safety rope and pull you up." One of the agents stated, interrupting their exchange. He did not know what they were signing on about- but he knew that it definitely wasn't about professional matters. There was a bond that he could not put on between the two, one that could not be created merely by being co-workers.

"Do you think you can handle it or do you want one of our men to jump in there and help you?" The agent continued, eyeing the CSIs injured leg. He was not surprised when the CSI refused. They'd done a background check on her hours ago and from what he had seen, she was too much into her independent streak to start being dependent- even at a time like this.

'What about the explosives?' She signed, and Grissom immediately repeated her question allowed to the agents.

"You're our first priority now."

She raised her brow and eyed Grissom.

'This is all over the news. It's good publicity if they get you out first.'

* * *

**FLASHBACK: **

"Where's Sara?" Michael Shapiro asked, a confused frown on his face. He had been bombarded with questions for two whole days and he had not once seen the CSI who had spent the past few months questioning him on the case.

"She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

The man offered a hand. "My name is Ben Daniels. I'm replacing Sara-

Shapiro's eyes widened. Things just too a turn for a worse. He had spent months believing that Sara was his ticket to freedom and now- she was gone. Replaced by a man who probably had no empathy whatsoever for all those years that he'd dealt with his wife. Not that Sara had ever shown it. She hid it well- but one look in her eyes showed the he understood him. _Abusive mother maybe?_

"Replaced?" Shapiro cut in, shoving the Daniel's hands aside. "How are you supposed to compare to her? You're-

"I assure you I am just as good as her- if not better." Ben Daniels paused.. "As a matter of fact, I've read the evidence you gave Sara and I noticed the resemblance it had with a couple of serial killings that happened months ago. Do you know anything about the elevator murders?'

'_Do I? I based my wife's whole murder on that!' _He was tempted to say but he held his ground and pretended to hold feign interest for the serial killings. "I'm sorry but no. I can't say I've heard of them."

"Well, the killer calls himself 'Charlie.' His victims were murdered very much like your wife."

"You think Charlie killed my wife?"

The CSI shrugged. "All of his victims are male. Your wife is a first."

"I didn't kill my wife." He repeated. For a second there, he'd thought that he had spun the new CSI onto his web of lies. If he'd had known that all of 'Charlie's' victims were all male he would've chosen someone else to copy cat. He decided then and there to never trust the news.

Had Sara read the note? He doubted that she did. If she had, she never would have left. He was slightly annoyed that he had to put up a show for the CSI. He'd spent hours trying to duplicating the killer's writing and he had put on a crying show in the interrogation room one he'd thought would break-

"Sir, I need you to show me the note that you were holding in the interrogation room."

He blinked. Maybe there was hope. "Note? I gave it to Sara." He gave a look of mock confusion.

"There was another note. I saw you holding it in the interrogation room. I have a video tape of it."

"Here." Shapiro sighed. He had to disappear while there was still time. Sara was gone and it looked like there was no way that they would believe him with the astonishing amount of evidence that they had against him. It was a miracle that they haven't arrested him yet.


	12. Chapter 11

**a/n This chappie explains everything (I think) **

**Thanks for all the reviews :P I LUFFF YOOU! **

"Morphine's fading." Charlie stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It was. For the past hour, Greg had done nothing but grunt in agony. Moving closer, he fumbled for something in his pocket and came up with a pill.

"Take this. It's a pain reliever."

The CSI raised an eyebrow in response.

"Don't be stupid, I'm not a murderer." He paused. "Okay, maybe I am. But I have no intention of killing you." Another pause. "And I'm not lying. I don't ever lie."

A chuckle was heard from Greg. There was slight hesitation in his eyes, but he took the pill nonetheless. After all, he had nothing to be doubtful about. He knew nothing about the man except for the possibility that he had a grudge against Sara and the fact that he always told the truth. Always.

The effects of the drug began to take hold almost immediately and a smile of sweet satisfaction appeared on Greg's face. Whatever he'd been given- was way better than morphine.

"What? No thank you?" Charlie asked, noticing that the CSI looked a little relieved.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here."

With a sigh, the man smiled apologetically, deciding that the CSI was right. "Sorry about that. It was never my intention to harm you. That's why I'm here- to apologize."

"You never did tell me what Sara has done to deserve- everything." Greg stated, changing the subject.

"It's not what she did. It's what she didn't do."

"Humor me." Greg whispered as he watched the killer pace about the room. He raised his brow when he saw Charlie place exactly 10 pictures- all of them men- unto the side table. From the way the pictures were taken it seemed that the men had no knowledge of the camera shots that were taken.

'Stalker.' Greg decided, realizing that the man must have been stalking Sara weeks, probably months before. Frowning at the fact that he could not recognize any of them, he eyed Charlie urging him to explain.

"These are the people I killed." Charlie explained, triumph in his voice.

"What does this have to do with Sara?"

He huffed as he pointed to the pictures one by one. "Tell me Greg, do you see any women in these pictures?"

"No."

"It was never my intention to hurt anyone of the opposite sex. I was raised a gentleman."

A snort was heard from Greg's side. "Gentleman? You call yourself a gentleman?"

Anger flashed in the man's eyes. "My mother raised me well."

"Really?" Greg paused. "Then why are you doing this to Sara?"

"Before she had left for San Francisco, she was working on a case. The murder of a doctor's wife. She was found on top of an elevator- very much like my style of murder and the press immediately had a field day with it."

"So did you do it?"

"I have never in all my years of living have killed a woman intentionally. As I said, I was raised a gentleman."

Greg blinked. "Intentionally?"

He stopped for a moment, looking as if he were gathering himself. Ignoring the remark, Charlie continued. "When that case opened, I had already killed the nine men whom I'd dreamt of killing for years. All of them were leeches, just like my father, sucking on all of their wives' riches. A terrible insult to human kind."

"You thought they deserved to die."

"I know they did. My mother suffered because of men like my father. I've never killed for my own pleasure. I've always done this for women. Women like my mother."

"What does this have to do with Sara?" Greg interrupted, realizing that the one-sided conversation seemed to be getting further and further from the answers that he was looking for. He saw a hint of annoyance in Charlie's eyes, and shifted positions.

"Haven't you been listening? As I was saying, I had already killed the nine men."

Greg nodded. "Meaning you never killed the man's wife?"

"No. I didn't even know about her until I read the newspapers." He shook his head. "At first, I barely listened to it- knowing that Sara Sidle was on the case. The wrong accusations immediately died down. But then Gil Grissom hired her." He paused. "Interrupted her from finishing the case and she had to be replaced by an amateur. Things turned crazy from there- and the next thing I knew, newspapers were saying that I had graduated from killing men and was now taking satisfaction in killing women!"

Waving his hands in the air, anger glared in his eyes. "Can you believe that?"

"Is that why you tried to kill Grissom? Because he sent for Sara?"

Shrugging, a smirk appeared on his face. "Yes but, my plan backfired. It must be fate that he should live. Grissom had deserved what he was suppose to have gotten because if it weren't for him, Sara would have never left and I would have never been accused of murder."

"And if Sara didn't leave, the amateur CSI wouldn't have gotten it all wrong?" Greg continued, his question more of a statement. He watched Charlie nod and continued. "But what about the new CSI? Isn't he to be blame?"

"I have ten pictures Greg. Not nine." A grin spread across Charlie's face. "Who do you think is the man in the tenth?"


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12  
**

Sara's eyes widened slightly as soon as her right foot hit the ladder. There was a song playing- in her head? Frowning, she looked up at Grissom and the FBIs and realized that they weren't hearing it.

Boosting herself up, until only a small part of her weight was left on the elevator, the song went up a notch. The CSI in her immediately kicked in and she placed all of her weight back down to the elevator.

_Do you really want to hurt me? _

_Do you really want to make me cry? _

The song sounded faint again, as if it were playing in her own mind. Was it? She knew the song, but it was never one of her favorites, and she saw no reason for it to be stuck in her head- especially at a time like this. She gave the timer a questioning glance. It still displayed the same number. _2:00_

Breathing a sigh of relief, she realized that she at least needed confirmation. Was she hearing things?

'Do you hear that?' Sara Sidle signed, her eyes concentrated on the timer.

Everyone, including Grissom, seemed dumbfounded. "Hear what?"

"Nothing. I thought I heard something." She whispered, not caring whether they heard her or not, as she put her foot back on the ground.

The music immediately stopped.

"Sara, what are you doing?" Grissom asked, a frown on his face, when he realized that she was skipping, on her good leg, towards the detonator. There was something on the look on her face alarmed him. It was the same look she always gave when she knew something wrong was going to happen.

She sighed. 'I just want to look at something.'

"We'll look at it later. Now grab the ladder so we can pull you up." He cut off, desperation in his voice. It was a side of him that he never showed, and the brunette's head immediately snapped up. "Please, Sara?"

Fingers touching the detonator she wondered what other tricks were under Charlie's sleeve. She placed her ear closer to the detonator and strained to hear anything that might constitute as a warning but was unsuccessful- and was stopped by one of the FBIs angry voices.

"Don't touch that! You wanna kill us all?" The FBI snapped and she immediately let go of the detonator.

Frowning she looked up at the FBI, a hint of annoyance in her eyes. She shifted her gaze towards Grissom and realized, from the look on the entomologist's face, that he was on the FBIs side on this issue. He wanted her to climb out. Shrugging, she signed her reply and waited for him to translate it.

"She says she thought she heard something." Grissom translated.

"She's probably just delusional."

She positioned herself back unto the floor, realizing that all the standing had drained her even more. Rolling her eyes at the FBI, she gave Grissom one of her 'don't-worry-I'm-fine' looks and forced a strong face. 'I know what delusional is and this isn't it. It's either I have a song stuck in my head or something in here is playing music. Tell him that.'

"Something is playing music down there and she's not delusional."

The FBI gave a look of doubt. "If she isn't, then why can't I hear it? She's been in there for hours. She's delusional. If she just-

He was cut off by Sara, who had started signing again. 'Tell the ignorant idiot that I'm right in front of him and that he doesn't need to act like I'm not here.'

Grissom chuckled. "She says that she's right in front of you, and that you don't need to refer to her as the third person."

Frowning, the FBI eyed Sara, who seemed to have had an irritated glint in her eye. "Look, all I'm saying, is that I can't hear anything. I'm sending one of my men down there. If you can hear it, then they should hear it. Otherwise, you're probably just delusional."

Motioning for one of the younger FBIs, he was cut short by Grissom who was now making his way down the ladder. "What are you doing?"

"Climbing down the ladder." Grissom replied bluntly. His gaze focused on Sara. He could see her face clearly now, and he cringed when he realized that she was far off worse than he thought. Stopping midsection of the ladder, he strained to hear what Sara had heard. Nothing. "I can't hear anything."

Shaking her head, she watched as Grissom made his way down. 'It stopped. I swear I heard it.'

"Miss Sidle, maybe you were just delusional."

An angry glare in her eyes, she raised her middle finger, much to the surprise of the agent.

Chuckling, Grissom opened his mouth to translate but was cut off by the FBI.

"I know what that means."


	14. Chapter 13

**Sorry for the delayed updates. My exams are coming up so I probably won't be able to update until then… meanwhile, here's another chappie. **

_Elevator Murders… San Francisco… CSI Sara Sidle… Charlie…_

Nick scrolled from website to website to no avail. It was no use. There was no way that they'd put fact specific information on a case online. Especially one in which the investigation was still ongoing.

"Nick, find anything?" He jumped when he heard someone behind him. He saw Warrick creeping toward him cautiously Not that it mattered. At this point, whether or not the FBI would see them, dragging them out would require a whole lot of effort.

"It's no use. FBI has all the files on this case. I'd have to be a computer genius before I can actually get any information from them."

There was a hint of disappointment in Warrick's eyes, that flickered for about half a second, before it brightened again, along with a grin that he always gave every time a good idea would pop into his head.

"Why do you have that look on your face?"

Warrick grinned. "Computer genius?"

There was confusion at first, and then realization. He berated himself for not thinking of it sooner. Smiling, he reached for his cell phone dialed the number of the one person whom the words 'computer genius' were synonymous to.

'Archie, can you crack me an FBI file on someone?'

There was a long pause at the other end of the line. 'Uh, did I miss something?'

'Long story, man. I just need you to get me a file on some serial killer. He calls himself Charlie and he's got a thing with elevator shafts.''

'Hold on. How am I supposed to get that kind of information?'

'I don't know. Break into their system?"

'You do know that's illegal right?'

'Uh, so?'

'You owe me a beer for this one.'

'Thanks, man. I appreciate it.'

A triumphant grin was on Nick's face as soon as he ended the phone call. "He says he'll do it."

* * *

"You look like you've gone through hell and back." Grissom joked as he stepped with great ease unto the elevator, hoping that they could ease the tension through the whole ordeal. He grinned when he saw a faint smile on Sara's face. He could see her condition clearly now, and he knelt down to examine the CSI. 

He saw how twisted her leg had become, and wondered how she'd managed to even stand up. _Dislocated. _ Frowning, he held her foot and popped it back into its original position before she could even react.

'FUCK!' She mouthed, catching herself before she could yell the words out loud. She was a bit annoyed that he hadn't warned her, but she knew that Grissom meant well.

He shook his head. "You can't walk in that."

"I already was."

"Well, you shouldn't." Grissom paused. "What were you hearing anyway?"

She shrugged, her eyes lingering on the floor. "Whatever it was, it's gone now.

"Come on, I'll help you get out of here. You need medical attention Sara."

"You go first, I'll-" She forced herself up. "I'll follow you."

"I told you, you can't walk on that foot." Irritation came with his voice. He sighed. "You aren't even suppose to stand. I'll carry you up if I have to."

She twitched her lips at the thought. "There is no way that I am going to let you carry me. It's either I get out by myself or nothing."

"You aren't going to win this, Grissom." She added.

Grissom nodded. She was right. This was something that he wasn't going to win. "I promise I won't carry if you go first. That leg looks like it won't hold. If you fall, I am going to be wracked with guilt for the rest of my life."

She nodded at the compromise and reached for the rope.

It was then that she saw what had been in her wrist since she had gotten there. Feeling as if her heart had momentarily stopped, she felt her knees weaken when she saw the same digital 2:00 blinking straight back at her. She licked her lips. "The watch."

"What about it?"

"It's not mine." She whispered.

Grissom eyes widened as he grabbed a hold of Sara's wrist, eyeing the watch. It hardly took a moment for him to realize what it was. Lifting his gaze back to Sara, he saw nothing but fear in her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me about this before?"

"I didn't notice." She suddenly realized what it was. "The song. I heard it when I was about to leave. The watch is connected wirelessly to the explosives. The song plays every time the connection is broken. " She paused, forcing a smile on her face. "I guess it really was too good to be true."

Hastily, Grissom struggled to remove it, wanting nothing more than to get it off her, only to be stopped by a piece of wire that had been tightly wrapped around it.

"We need the bomb squad down here! We found the trigger!"

* * *

"We still need to talk to Sara though." Warrick stated, knowing that she was the one person that could explain everything. They had been patiently waiting for Archie's call for about an hour and the two of them were now restless, knowing that there was nothing they could do but wait. He watched as Nick, fumbled with 'answer' button on the phone, looking as if he was trying to will it to ring. 

"What the fuck is taking him so-" The ringing of Nick's phone cut him off. "long." He paused., a smirk on his face. "I guess I spoke to soon."

The sound of typing on the other end of the line was followed by Archie's voice.

'I'm in their system. What do you wanna know? The guy's a genius that's for sure. Full name is Charles Buckley. Been on the run, after being seen coming out of one of his victim's apartments, for years. The FBI has gone loco with this case. Everyone the guy's been involved with keeps their mouths shut.'

'Wait, they've identified him?'

'They have- which makes him even more of a genius. He kills his victims in various ways, all without him actually ever being there. He plays a sort of game without loopholes with the victims and everyone around them.'

'What exactly is his MO?'

'Elevators. Chloroforms his victim, hides their unconscious bodies inside elevators. And, ah, all of his victims are male.'

'Male, huh?'

"Yeah, why?'

'Never mind. Is there a reasoning behind the elevators? Why does he use them?'

'It doesn't really say but I think it has something to do with him falling into an elevator shaft when he was six. He nearly died. He was lucky his mother found him or he would have been a goner. Spent months in the hospital.'

'His mother found him?'

'I know, it's pretty far-fetched but that's what it says right here.'

'Anything else?'

'He was suspected of murdering his parents at 15 but there was no hard evidence so he was sent to his grandparents. However, both his grandparents died a couple weeks later and he was sent to an adoption center.'


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N: Don't worry. I didn't forget about Brass. He's alive. He'll be in the last chapters. Probably the next one**.

"So, do you plan on staying here until they catch you?" Greg asked, a forced smirk on his face. Hours had passed since Charlie had arrived and he found it ironic that the killer seemed to be in no hurry, pacing around the room every once in a while and engaging in conversation after conversation.

"I plan on staying here for as long as I want to." Charlie's lips pursed. "And I doubt that they'd ever catch me."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Has anyone ever told you that you are way too overconfident?"

Charlie chuckled as he reached for nearest chair and sat on it, seemingly exhausted from all the standing. He watched as Greg tried his best not to doze off.

He found it funny that Greg was going through lengths to gain his trust, when it showed that Greg had no intention of ever trusting him back. The pain reliever he had given the CSI earlier had been spiked with tranquilizers that were usually intended for his victims. The only plausible reason why Greg did not even blink was that he didn't trust him. Not that he could blame the CSI.

"Not overconfident, just honest." He finally replied bluntly. "Aren't you tired?"

The CSI shrugged. "I'm feeling peachy." He paused. "Now tell me more about your scarred life."

"Scarred life, Greg?" Charlie whispered, as he traced an outline of one of Greg's older scars. He saw the CSI flinch at his touch and realized it was one of those scars that came with terrible memories. "What happened to this?"

Annoyance flickered in Greg's eyes. "Lab explosion." He replied bluntly, and Charlie raised a brow in confusion.

"That's impossible that-

"This happened years ago. This isn't the first time I've been in the middle of an explosion in my lifetime." Greg forced mock humor into his voice, his fists clenched in vexation.

Charlie smirked, realizing he was treading on dangerous ground with Greg. Although he could see that the CSI was generally calm and collected there was a darker, more dangerous side to the CSI- one that he had no intention of seeing. "You seem tired. Why not doze off for a little while?"

"Thanks but no. I want to be awake when they catch you."

"Smart ass, are we?"

"Just honest. Aren't you even worried that I know what you look like?" Greg paused. "Unless of course you're going to kill me?"

"I'm not going to kill you, Greg. I thought we talked about that from the start."

The CSI cocked his head. "Then what if I tell?"

"When the time comes, you won't."

* * *

"I can't work with this." The representative of the FBI explosives unit finally stated after fumbling with the watch for a few minutes. He saw dismay flash across Sara's features and realized he had just cut whatever thread of hope she was clinging to. Not that he could help it. He really couldn't do anything with a detonator if he didn't know where it was getting its signal from. 

"You're kidding, right?" Grissom snapped, suddenly feeling even more frustrated than he had been. "She spends hours here on the verge of death and now after a few minutes of playing with that detonator, you're saying that you can't do anything about it?"

The agent frowned. "Hours. Minutes. Seconds. It doesn't matter. Face it. We're standing in front of a brick wall."

"I can't under-

"Grissom." Sara cut in. Whatever feeling of fear and dismay she had on her face had completely disappeared and the agent wondered if it had anything to do with her being a CSI. He had always wondered what kind of people would work as CSI and he realized that it was the kind of people who hid their feelings well. The kind of people who were like Sara Sidle.

Grissom's head snapped towards the CSI. "What?"

'Maybe you should just go. You really aren't helping.' She saw a look of disbelief on Grissom's face almost immediately. The last thing she had wanted to do was hurt him, but she knew that it was necessary to get him out. He would never agree to her plan, especially since there was a large chance that she wouldn't come out of it alive. Biting her tongue, she continued. 'I'm sorry. It's just that it's getting stuffy in here. I can't think straight.'

Relief spread through Grissom's features, and she couldn't help but realize that she had been wrong all these years. She was not as unimportant to Grissom as she thought she was. Grissom was actually the last person she'd thought that would go through everything he was doing for her.

Sighing at the thought of never seeing him again, she grabbed his hand just before he could make his way up. "Don't go, just yet."

"What do you want, Sara?"

There were tears in her eyes. "Can we drop the whole supervisor-subordinate act for a few seconds? I need a hug so bad right now. I can't." She paused. "I need a friend. Just for a few seconds. Just to help me get through this. Can you do that for me Grissom? Can you just-

Before it could even register to her, Grissom's arms were wrapped around her.

There was a feeling of emptiness when she let him go and she realized, as she saw him make his way up the ladder, that if she did die she was probably going to feel guilty about what she was about to do for the rest of her afterlife.

She turned to face the FBI. "I need your gun and your help."


	16. Chapter 15

**a/n: err... I wrote this chapter in a free-flowing jiffy so forgive me if there are any run on sentences. And thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate them. This story is almost over. About 2 or 3 more chapters. I have another story up. I don't know what to do with it yet. I'm having so much fun with this. LOL. Heheheheeh...**

"What you need my gun-

Before the agent could even register what was happening, Sara had his own gun drawn at him- her right pointer finger wrapped around the front of the trigger as if she were afraid that he'd jump at her. Had she gone crazy? He didn't think so. The CSI's composure might have made it seem like she had, but her eyes told a different story. Her eyes showed that there was a logical explanation for her sudden turnabout.

With reflex, the agent pulled his extra gun onto the CSI and the two eyed each other down: Sara, in shock that she had not thought about the FBI agent having an extra gun and the agent, in confusion as to what was going on.

Looking up, he saw that the darkness of the shaft made Grissom and the others oblivious to what was happening. The two of them were fighting a silent battle with their guns and their eyes, and he knew that the only way they would know what was going on, was if someone pulled the trigger.

"Get out of here." Sara whispered so calmly that it almost seemed as if she was not grasping a loaded gun in her hand. She was never one for games and she realized that the agent wasn't either. She'd never thought she'd ever met an FBI agent who, instead of doing as told and trying to negotiate, would draw his own gun. She'd expected, years ago, that she would be surprised and impressed if she would ever come across an agent like that and now that she did, she was surprised but hardly impressed. She wanted nothing more than to get this over with- and it hadn't even hit her that he would actually fight back.

"Have you gone crazy?" He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. "What are you doing?"

Sara shook her head. What was she doing? She was pointing a gun at someone who was on her side and though her reasons made perfect sense to her, it seemed to be nothing but a temporary craze to the man in front of him.

Sighing, she decided that she had nothing else to do except try to make him understand what she was doing, try to get him to help her. "Listen to me. I know how to get everyone out of this whole situation but it involves everyone having to evacuate- which is why you have to get out of here. I'm not going to shoot you but you have to get out."

The agent raised a brow as if it were the most absurd thing he had heard. "Get out? I'm not leaving you here. Look, lady, I may not know you. But it's my job to help you and I'm not leaving."

"This is exactly why I drew my gun out. I know you FBI types can be hard-headed."

"It comes after years of negotiating with the creepiest sons-of-a-bitches" He reasoned and she saw the sides of Sara's lips curve in agreement. There must have been something about the way she smiled that made anyone feel at ease in a tense situation because his next words came out of him like he was talking to a friend he had known for years, like he wasn't in an elevator shaft talking to a suspect, victim, or whatever the hell Sara should be called now that she had seemingly turned the tables. "Maybe if you tell me what's going on, I'll be able to help you." Eyes darting towards her injured leg, he continued. "You aren't exactly looking like a million bucks."

She nodded, both in agreement and defeat. As much as she did not want to involve anyone but herself in all of this- she was, after all, very positive, that she was the reason for all this- she knew she had no choice. Pointing to the direction of the three wires that held the shaft up, she realized she had a lot of explaining to do.

"Those screws over there." She started. "They don't just hold the wires to the shaft. You've probably heard of the guy's M.O. right? Well, I got a letter for him saying that if I took all the screws out the bombs would deactivate. Only problem is-

"The shaft would collapse if you do that." The agent continued.

Sara shrugged. "I figure I have a couple of seconds to grab onto that rope ladder over there."

"With that leg?"

She rolled her eyes and continued. "Now, as much as I want to believe this guy, I can't ever be sure that he's telling the truth. Serial killers are unpredictable and I can never be sure that taking them off will deactivate all the explosives." She paused. "This is where you come in. I want you to get everyone evacuated."

The look on the agents face showed that he only half agreed with the situation and he did. She was entirely right, they still did need to evacuate. But a large part of him could not accept what that the CSI was willing to risk her life to get through this. "I can't let you do this by yourself. I need to stay here. Besides, how the hell will I get them to evacuate?"

A small smile appeared on Sara's face before she pulled the trigger on the gun she was holding. Shaking at the thought of being shot, the agents face turned into a combination of shock and confusion when he found that he was perfectly fine. She had targeted the wall and the bullet had embedded itself on the wall.

There was something about the way the CSI was smiling that said that she wanted him to act on something now, and it only took the click of several guns to make him realize what she had wanted him to do.

Nodding in acknowledgement at Sara, he reached the ladder and began making his way up. He shook his head concluding that what he was about to do was by far the most insane lie he would ever tell in his entire life. "Man down! Man down! We need to evacuate the building! The bomb has been triggered. Approximately 2:40 seconds left!"

Confident, that they already were evacuating, Sara Sidle began taking of the first of the third screws. She wondered if Grissom had caught the mistake the agent had done. _2:40? _The timer had been set for 2:00. For his sake, she hoped to God that he did miss it.


	17. Chapter 16

**a/n: Second to the last chapter**

The room seemed a lot more empty than it had been. Opening his eyes, he realized that Charlie had left. He had told himself not to doze off and he did. Charlie was the ticket to everything that had been going on, and all he had to do was entertain the bastard until someone would come in to check on him. _Damn. _ He scolded himself, noticing a piece of paper folded neatly beside him.

_Greg,_

_I hope you had a good rest. You were looking very tired- what with the accident and the tranquilizer I gave you. _

_Yes. Tranquilizers. The pills I gave you had a bit of my special medicine in them. I expect that you will be furious at me for doing that. I expect that you would think that I lied and did harm you. Let me just say, however, that I never said that I was not going to put you to sleep. I only said I was not going to harm you. _

_I gave Brass a lot more than I gave you, so I expect that he still must be sleeping. Tell him when he wakes up that I apologize for jumping at him with the injection. I really was going to give him the same pill I gave you, but he had gotten suspicious of me and I panicked. _

_Your Friend, _

_Charlie. _

He nearly choked at the last two lines. 'Your friend, Charlie.' Who the hell did this guy think he was? Rolling his eyes, he reached for the call button.

* * *

With the last turn of the screw, Sara dashed towards the rope ladder reaching for it just a split second before the elevator collapsed. She thought she heard someone yell from underneath it, but she quickly dismissed it, knowing that she had a lot more obstacles to overcome.

Nauseous. She was feeling more nauseous than she'd ever been in entire life. Wrapping the rope tightly around her hand, she theorized that it would be enough to hold her up in case she would fall into unconsciousness.

This theory was never tried though because someone was already reaching for her before she realized it. Despite the darkness, she recognized the voice almost immediately.

"Sara, I thought you died."

_Grissom._

"I-" She stopped, realizing that he didn't need an answer. She should have guessed that he would catch the agent's mistake. She never really wanted him to get involved, but she was somewhat thankful that he came for her. She hadn't planned on what she was going to do after the elevator collapsed- she knew there was no way in hell that she could climb the ladder without any help, but it had never really sunk in until she had grabbed hold of it before the elevator collapsed.

Collapsing on the floor in exhaustion as soon as she got out of the shaft, she smiled at her supervisor. "Guess you weren't fooled."

Grissom frowned. "Fooled?"

"The timer." She elaborated. "That agent made the mistake of saying we had 2:40 seconds left. The timer was set to 2:00."

Realization swept across his face. "Wait, the whole shooting incident was a fake?"

"You didn't know? How did you know I was alive?"

He shrugged as he sat down beside her. "I didn't. I just didn't want to leave you."


	18. Chapter 17

_Michael Shapiro_

The note that Charlie had left Brass contained nothing but that name. He did not recognize it, but he was sure that the rest of the team probably knew who he was. Reaching for his phone, he decided to call Catherine and ask. How long had he been out of it?

'Catherine, I need to-

She cut him off. 'They found Sara. She's unconscious but she's on her way to Desert Palms.'

'Thank God.'

'We have a John Doe here. He was underneath the elevator Sara was in-

'Wait, what elevator?'

'Long story but he's been mangled really bad. I hope he isn't one of ours.'

It was suddenly all so clear to him.

'Don't worry, Catherine. He's not.'

'What?'

'He's not one of ours. His name is Michael Shapiro.'

* * *

**A week later:  
**

The gun underneath her bed was the first thing Sara reached for as soon as she regained consciousness. She'd kept it there a few days ago, as soon as she had been told of what had happened to both Brass and Greg. Charlie had actually visited them- and ironically enough, he had not harmed them like the sick man he was supposed to have been.

"I brought food." Grissom stated "And don't worry. It's vegetarian." He added, realizing that she was eyeing the plate suspiciously.

"I didn't say anything." She paused. "So, you wanna tell me what happened after I blacked out last week?"

"You need to regain your-

She lifted her had in protest. "I've had enough rest, Grissom. Now give me the details so I wouldn't have to speculate anymore. I'm losing sleep because of it."

"Well, you know that yell you told me you'd heard when the elevator fell?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Let's just say it wasn't all in your head."

* * *

**FLASHBACK:**

Michael Shapiro groaned in pain as soon as he regained consciousness. Where the hell was he? Reaching for the lighter in his pocket, he realized that he was definitely not in control of the situation anymore. He had hidden for years in the suburbs, away from a conviction, and he was not surprised that he had finally been recognized.

What he didn't understand, was why the man had attacked him and brought him there instead of bringing him to the police like he deserved. The room was small, about 4 by 5 feet- so he definitely wasn't in some type of interrogation room.

Noticing the piece of paper in the middle of the room, he reached for it, recognizing who had written it, long before he had finished reading.

_Mr. Shapiro,_

_If you're wondering why you're here, it is because you deserve it. What with that stunt you pulled a couple of years ago. How dare you try to pin your wife's murder on me?_

_I do not know who killed you wife Mr. Shapiro. I do not know if it was you. What I do know is that you faked evidence. You tried to put the blame on me and for that, you must be punished. _

_Look around you. Recognize you're surroundings? Well, you should. It's where you found your wife. You're inside an elevator shaft. – Only difference is, your wife was on top of the elevator and well, you're underneath it. _

_Don't worry, though. Look at the boards above you. The elevator does not go down to the level that you are in. You aren't going to be flattened to death. _

A sigh of relief escaped him and he continued reading.

_I still remember how fond you were of CSI Sidle. It got to me that you were honestly thinking that she was your ticket to freedom. Well, I don't think she is. But I'm also not the type of person to jump into conclusions. So I decided to make a little experiment. _

_Here's how it works: You're in that shaft, and Sara has to find you. Will Sara find you? Let's just hope she does._

_Charlie._

He rolled his eyes at the letter. That was it? Reaching for a cigar in his pocket, he decided to wait it out. Sara would get him out. Eventually.

**THE END**

**a/n: Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm so happy. I finally finished it. Yay.**


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